Branded
by LeighJ11
Summary: Sometimes, there are moments in life when a sign is delivered and it's wise to listen to its meaning.
1. Chapter 1

Daryl Dixon has no fucking clue how he always ends up in these situations.

When he was six, he overheard his ma talking to his aunt Estelle about a man she slept with. At the time, he didn't comprehend shit like affairs and sex. When he ma said 'slept' he assumed real sleep, with some other guy that weren't his dad. As far as his six-year-old brain could understand, that meant they would leave his dad behind. There was nothing in the fucking world that he wanted more at that point than to start a new life and he shot up the stairs to pack his things. He did that for a week, secretly putting away clothes each night, waiting for his ma to talk about the new man who was going to be his new, better dad who played trucks with him and didn't use the belt. Until one night, lying in bed, he woke to his parents screaming at each other. Wasn't anything new, neither was his ma crying, but there was something about her sobs that night that turned his stomach and he listened hard to what his dad was shouting over the meaty slap of his punches to his ma's skin.

"Filthy fuckin' whore. Think you can fuck some other guy when your old man ain't gettin' a piece?"

Daryl still didn't know shit about sex or what his dad was saying, but when the cops showed up at the door, he knew it was bad. The neighbours usually let the Dixon's get on with it because they were all dirty hillbillies who weren't civilized and beat the shit out of each other. But that night, something about his ma's screams made the neighbours scared. The next day, she came back from the hospital looking the worst he had ever seen her. A bloated, purple face, black eyes, missing teeth, split lip, broken nose and his dad got locked up for nearly three months, the best months of his life he can ever remember. Just him, Merle and his ma.

She never did tell him or Merle what was hurting her during that time, the full extent of how bad she was injured, but for the blissful weeks they were free of his dad, he saw her clutch her ribs and her belly with a wobbling chin almost every day. After that, when he was eleven, he heard Merle talking to a friend about a house he had robbed, held the family at gun point. When he was sixteen, he heard his dad tell a woman he was fucking to 'get rid of it' and he never heard the beginning or the end of the conversation, but he knows that day his dad ordered for the abortion of his brother or sister.

Daryl has always overheard shit he shouldn't have and sometimes they've been harmless, like the time he caught his teacher wanking off in the boy's bathroom. Sometimes they've been real bad, like his ma and other times, they've just been shit he doesn't want to know, like Merle making plans to rob a bank. He's gotten used to it. He's quiet and he skulks, turning up in places people don't expect him to, so they go about doing things they wouldn't do if they were aware he was watching or listening. Once again, he's landed himself in one of those situations because he's caught onto a conversation Maggie and Beth are having.

"- really should tell daddy, Beth. If he finds out himself, he'll be real mad."

"Why? He ain't never gonna see it."

"But someone might an' they might tell him."

"Like who? You think I go gettin' naked 'round here?"

"That's not what I m-"

"Maggie," Beth cuts her off. "Ain't none of your business what I got inked on my body, an' it was way before walkers, a whole other life, so cut it out."

"Hey! I'm still your older sister an'-"

Daryl slowly backs away from the wall he's hidden by and walks away, the damage done. He tries not to give a shit. It's just a tattoo, a secret one but whatever, why should he care? Except Beth said it was in a place that no one would see and she would have to be naked for anyone to spot it. Where the fuck could that be? He's been on the road with her all winter, he's seen naked parts of people he never wants to think about again, like Rick's bare ass and a flash of Lori's tits.

He's seen Beth's legs a million times since she's in shorts a lot now and tops that rise a couple of inches off her waist too because she's had a growth spurt and shit barely fits her any more. It can't be her waist, her stomach or back. Her hips, maybe? Her ass? Her tits? Shit, he's really got to fucking stop because now he's thinking about parts of Beth Greene he's never thought about before and fuck, he suddenly really wants to see.

* * *

"Hey," Beth greets Daryl as he rattles her curtain.

He steps through with a dip of his chin. "Headin' out. Gonna be gone a couple days. You want anythin'?"

She strokes over her book and shrugs. "Some clothes. Anythin', long as they fit."

He nods and she doesn't know why but her stomach flutters when his eyes dip to the t-shirt she's wearing, riding up a little over her hips because she's growing like a damn giant lately. Whatever it is, a dirty, secret trickle of wetness dampens her panties and she swallows softly, keeping perfectly still so she doesn't squeeze her legs together for some friction.

Daryl hesitates like he means to go but he's debating something. Finally, after Beth's heart has increased to embarrassing levels, he whispers, "anythin' specific, to cover that tat?"

As quick as her heartbeat rose, is as quick as it crashes in her ears. "What?"

He goes a little pink in the face but pushes on, "heard you an' Maggie talkin' 'bout it. Seemed she was on ya case; thought I'd ask 'case I bring you summin' that don't cover it."

Beth's heart pounds in her chest, but she manages to say, "you ain't gonna tell my daddy right?"

Daryl shakes his head with a frown. "Ain't my business."

She sighs in relief. "Thank you, but no, there ain't no clothes you're gonna get me that'll stop me from hidin' it."

He dips his chin again but he still replies, almost violently like he has to force himself, "where is it?"

It's Beth's turn to flush now and for some reason, she has a boost of confidence because she says, "better if I show you."

It's open ended, so he could say no, but he nods. "Alrite."

Standing on shaky legs, she puts her book aside and stands up. When she's facing Daryl, with her face ablaze, she lifts her top.

* * *

Daryl's heart comes out of his fucking throat when she pulls her t-shirt up and shows him the tattoo he's been thinking about for fucking weeks. Almost immediately, his cock is hard as a rock, her skin practically goddamn branded with his name. It's a musical note, shot through with an arrow.

Their symbols.

Her singing and his crossbow, both of them entwined together under her breast, close to her heart like she's already his. It's madness, fucking insanity, but it's like she's proclaimed herself to be his, to belong to him. All of her. Breasts and tits and ass and God, pussy too.

So he has no fucking clue what gives him the balls to say it, but suddenly he's murmuring, "hope whoever did it is long fuckin' dead girl, 'cause ain't no one seein' this but me."


	2. Chapter 2

"You okay, Bethy? Look like you hurt yourself," Maggie comments in the kitchen.

Beth shifts at the counter and tries not to wince when she lies and says, "I'm fine."

"You sure?" Her sister asks against with anxious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

Beth nods and keeps cutting, saying to Maggie, "positive," but thinking back to two days ago when she got the worst beard burn ever.

* * *

Beth's not sure what she expected Daryl to do after seeing her tattoo, but it wasn't this.

Two hours later, they've arrived at a cabin more forest than man made structure. Its windows are broken in and the whole thing is covered in moss. Frankly, Beth thinks it's staring at her like it has its own personality, but she couldn't find too much care for its judgement when Daryl hauled her inside by her hand.

Now here she is, kissing him with so much passion and excitement she feels like her heart is going to burst straight out of her chest to fall at his feet. Her top is already off and she's nearly got his belt undone, but she's stopped when he slams her up against a wall and leaves her breathless.

Beth gasps and tilts back her head, trying to get some air into her struggling lungs. Daryl doesn't give her the time though because his mouth attacks her throat and collarbones, his hands tearing her bra away so he can kiss and bite the skin that her tattoo is inked into. She moans and grips his head, pressing him closer.

She never really thought what sex with Daryl Dixon would be like, but if she had to, she would say he would be sweet and caring. He is still, but he's so full of emotion, a need burning through him that she feels through every imprint of his skin to hers. It burns in her gut and her cunt.

Desperate, she yanks him downwards and like a puppet he falls to his knees, kissing her waist and hips while he yanks on her jeans. Beth helps as much as she can, pulling her jeans and panties in a tangle to her knees. He groans at the wet all over her thighs and grips them, shoving his thumbs between her legs to part her pussy.

She flushes bright red when he shoves his whole face in, his nose deep when he inhales the smell of her and then swipes the flat of his tongue from her clit to her opening. Beth's legs shake and nearly give out, her belly quivering with the orgasm that's already approaching. In his hair, her hands tighten even harder, tugging at the strands.

Daryl growls and goes back for more, his beard cutting into her thighs and the top of her pussy. She whimpers a little and lets him keep going, spreading her legs some more to avoid the prickle of his face. Another minute or so of her trying to get comfortable, she jerks her hips back and his face away.

He looks up at her like a lost puppy. "What?"

"Beard hurts," she whispers softly, her face on fire.

Daryl frowns a little but nods, looking a lot like a kid told to stop eating candy. Beth laughs a little and tugs him to his feet. "C'mon, we can still do other stuff."

A little smile suddenly appears and he clambers to his feet, ducking his chin over to the bed. "Get your ass up on there."

* * *

Michonne snorts when Daryl's arms tremble lifting the crossbow. "Over used, huh?"

He glances over at her from the corner of his eye, trying to steady his aim. "The hell you talkin' 'bout?"

Michonne shrugs, pouting innocently. "Just looks like you been holdin' up some weight a while an' you're strugglin'."

"Ain't strugglin'," he denies and then scowls at Michonne and Rick's shared, smug grin. "Hey, quit it. Ain't nothin' wrong so c'mon, 'fore we lose the sun and ain't got no damn dinner tonight."

He stomps off ahead of them and with determination, keeps his crossbow up and ready even though his arms shake and his mind goes back to the most delicious weight he held up the other day.

* * *

"You can't be serious," Beth gasps when Daryl pulls over.

He nods. "C'mon."

"Daryl, anyone could come past an' see!" She argues as the bike comes to a stop. "I bet a walker'll show up!"

He smirks. "You chicken?"

She scowls and he grins back. Still, calling her out always works because she sits back on the bike when he stands up. Daryl hums in approval and reaches forward to grip her arms, leading her to balance against the edge of the bike and stretch her hips forward and into him.

Daryl groans as she rubs against his aching cock and releases her forearms to reach down and haul her up in his arms, keeping her ass on the seat. She squeals and grabs his biceps, leaning back enough that he can rub his cock against her through her jeans. Her head hangs back and her hips grind with his.

Electric sparks through his balls and he squeezes her body tighter to him, grinding his dick so hard he's panting with it and the weight of Beth in his arms. He nuzzles closer to get to her neck and Beth yelps so he pulls away quickly, frowning. "S'wrong?"

She reaches up and strokes her cheek where a little red mark is. "Damn beard has gotta go."

He raises his brow and she folds her arms over her chest with her own raised brow. "You don't wanna eat me again, huh?"

Daryl growls and squeezes her tight, lifting her clear off of the bike. "So goddamn sneaky."

* * *

Beth tries not to shake when she slides the razor across Daryl's left cheek, but she does and that scares her so much that she shakes even more.

"Y'alrite, girl?" Daryl murmurs.

"Don't talk!" She panics, pulling the blade back quickly. "Could cut you!"

"Can handle a damn shavin' cut, Beth," he scoffs.

"Well, I don't wanna cut you!" Beth argues. "This blade is huge, look at it! S'from the damn stone age."

Daryl scoffs again and once more she pulls the blade back. "Keep still!"

He rolls his eyes but does as he's told and she watches him with narrowed eyes first before she trusts him enough not to move and puts the blade back to his skin. The razor he gave her to cut him is a deadly weapon in its own right, one of those old swish blades that terrified her when she saw her daddy using one.

She was terrified then and she still is now, but she was the one who said it had to go and he's been good enough to actually do it for her, so the least she can do is do it for him. Still, it takes a while for her to relax and stop being so nervous. After that transition, the room goes quiet, filled only with the sound of their steady breathing and the tickle of water when she cleans the blade.

Beth thought she would just shave him and that was it, but there's something more to it, something she didn't anticipate that feels intimate. Possibly it's the fact that she's holding such a big ass knife to his skin and not slicing him to ribbons, but it's more than that. It's the act itself, something she can't explain.

The room around them too, a cupboard sized bathroom that has only a broken shower and cracked sink in here, so no one uses it. Plus, it's in the catacombs of the prison, which doesn't smell all that great so no one really ventures down here. She's not sure what it was used for before, but it's handy now.

Daryl's head is tipped back over the chair and just beneath the sink, so she can cut at his skin in the glow of the candles and then reach over to clean the blade off in the sink. The water gets just a touch hot, but it's not much, so by the time it touches Daryl's skin, it's grown cold on the blade.

For a while that goes on and with each scrape of the razor against his skin, taking away hair and leaving smooth flesh, Beth feels a trickle of wet between her legs. She huffs and shuffles on her feet. It's torture, but she gets through it and wipes down Daryl's face when it's completely bare.

He sits up and looks at her in the dying flames. "How'd I look?"

"Good," Beth smiles, stroking his skin. "Different. Younga."

"So that's what you wanted, huh? Younga?" He jokes.

She rolls her eyes and plays along, bending to whisper against his lips, "nah, don't want no one but Daryl Dixon."

He kisses her, pulling her down into his lap with a roll of his hips. "Aint' no one I want but you Beth Greene."


End file.
